


Not a Heartless Monster.

by Little_sparrow



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3918739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_sparrow/pseuds/Little_sparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My OFC has been hurt. Damon is Damon, and Stefan is Stefan, but after reading this one-shot, you might question what that really means. Is Stefan always the courageous hero, and is Damon always the heartless monster?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Heartless Monster.

**Author's Note:**

> To give a little bit of a back-story, so that things make more sense, my Original Female Character (Tess) has bad history with Vampires. As in, Klaus force turned her first serious boyfriend (James) into a Vampire, and made him blood crazed, all in an effort to "get at" Stefan, Elena and Damon. James was unable to control himself and attacked Tess, Damon rips him of Tess, and stakes James in the heart, instantly killing him. 
> 
> Even though Tess is glad to be alive (she's not an idiot), she is resentful and distrustful of all Vampires. After seeing how Damon is unrepentant about killing her boyfriend, feeds on humans all the time, and is just generally a jerk..... Tess really doesn't like him. 
> 
> With all that in mind, I really wanted to get into the head-space of Damon. So I hope it sounds something like him. 
> 
> While writing this, I listened to Tom Odel's "Heal" (If I Stay movie version), Blue Foundation Eyes on Fire, and "You're worth it" (Track 13) From the Insurgent soundtrack score.

Damon scowled and looked around at the mess he’d no doubt watch Stefan clean up tomorrow. Damn, he thought, looking at the splintered remains of an old antique lounge chair, he’d actually hated that piece of furniture less than all the other relics Stefan liked to keep around the house. As if the house itself didn’t already act like a continual reminder of their shared pasts, Stefan seemed to think it was necessary to fill the house with ugly, historically significant items. 

One of the things he’d originally planned on doing when he returned to Mystic Falls was to drag up some old memento’s to torture his brother with things that would remind him of Katherine, but it seemed that Stefan had already done most of that for him. He wondered how Elena felt about it all, one of these days he should ask, but he doubted that she’d tell even if he did. Moving over to the fireplace hearth, he picked up a glass tumbler, and poured himself a generous helping of vintage Bourbon; at least Stefan’s melancholy hoarding was good for something. 

Stefan cleared his throat, clearly wanting Damon’s attention. With a roll of his eyes, Damon looked over, and with some surprise noted his reluctance to do so, as if ignoring the situation would make it go away. Stefan paused a moment, standing up from his kneeling position next to the couch, where he’d been dutifully inspecting, and bandaging the wound on Tessa’s neck; not that it would do much good. 

Stefan sighed heavily, which Damon thought was typical; no doubt self-righteous, saint Stefan blamed himself for what happened. Not that he or Stefan could have known about the five blood-crazed Vampires waiting in ambush. 

“I’m going to go around to Elena’s. Tessa’s not….” he didn’t finish, his shoulders sagging heavily, “I think Elena should be here before….” He trailed off again, unable to get the words out. They were Vampires, they knew the signs of a human approaching death. 

The room was silent, except that both brothers were plagued by the sound of Tessa’s erratic heart-beat, and slow, shallow breathing, which was faint even to their supernatural hearing. Why she’d thought it was necessary to play a hero, when the two people she was rescuing, and their attackers were super-human, he’d never understand. Well, at least she wouldn’t try it again, he thought ironically, dead people don’t usually stick around to cause more trouble.

Except that this was Mystic Falls, where an abundance of undead either resided, or were inevitably attracted towards. Damon might have laughed only a few months before, but now he strangely couldn’t bring himself even to quib an “I told you so” to Stefan. Of all the people who deserved to die, Tessa wasn’t one of them, even he had to grudgingly admit to that. There was no chance she’d wake up a vampire. Tess had made it abundantly clear in the past about how she abhorred even the thought of drinking a killer’s blood, just so she wouldn’t die. Clearly, her words, not his. 

Damon gripped his glass tighter, and attempted to say nonchalantly “Or you know, you could just feed her some of your blood and you wouldn’t need to tell Elena that her cousin is about to die!” It came out sounding more defensive than he’d intended it, but they both knew he had a point. 

Stefan’s jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms against his chest, “If it was up to me, Tess wouldn’t still be lying there, and you know it. But it’s not up to me, and I know Tess well enough to know that’s not what she’d want.” Stefan yelled, his calm demeanour suddenly breaking, a hint that perhaps it had never been there in the first place. Despite not physically needing to, he was breathing heavily, and forcibly said, “Tess wouldn’t want that.” Stefan sounded like he was trying to cement that thought into his mind as much as he was trying to into Damon’s. 

“I’m going to go get Elena.” Stefan reiterated, picking up his jacket from the back of the couch, before pausing over Tessa’s small, pale frame, his fingers lightly brushing a stray lock of her hair back from her sweat drenched forehead. Wearing a look of sad affection, he straightened up and swiftly headed over to the front door, picking up his car keys. He yanked the door open, and turned back to Damon. “Keep an eye on her, and ring if there’s any change.” 

He took a step forward, and then turned his head, so that his face was half masked in shadow, his features still clear to Damon’s sharp gaze. “And Damon, don’t do anything to make her hate you even more.” He said, a strange look crossing his face for a second, before it was gone. If Damon didn’t know better, he almost would have sworn that it looked like hope. 

Damon turned back around to resume gloomily looking at the fire, taking a lingering sip of his drink. He heard Stefan’s car leave, and the room was filled with silence, bar the sound of the fire, Tessa’s halting breathing, and the ticking of an old clock. He really did hate antiques, the sound grated on his senses, and suddenly an overwhelming frustration, an inexplicable rage gripped him. Spinning around at super-human speed, he hurled his glass across the room at the clock. 

“Damn you Tess!” He roared, watching without satisfaction, as the glass shattered on the antique, and smashed the clock’s casing. He stood stunned still for a moment. Why had he yelled that? He internally wondered, confused at his own outburst. 

Now the room was filled with a tense unease, as if something important had just happened, and now the world waited in anticipation of what he would do next. Especially now that a maddening idea had begun to worm it’s way through his shield of bravado. 

Still the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire; nothing moved, not a sound, not a breath; and then he realized. 

Not a breath. 

He was at Tess’s side within a millisecond, on one knee, hands urgently gripping her shoulders, gently shaking her. “Tess. Tessa, wake up! Breathe Tess.” He ordered, aware that even if she had a heartbeat now, she wouldn’t for long if she didn’t breathe. 

There was no response. “Tess!” He shouted, panicking. 

There was a weak quivering breath, and a slight, almost imperceptible flutter of her eyelids, but it was enough. She was alive. For the moment.

Relief flooded through him, and he whispered “Thank God.” Damon bent his head down, resting it against the couch’s armchair, trying to tell himself he didn’t care if Tess died. Reminding himself that maybe Stefan and the rest of the Mystic Falls freaks did, but he didn’t. He thought once again of the fleeting look of hope on Stefan’s face. But perhaps he did. He cared enough to make sure Tessa hated him even more than she already did. 

Damon’s head lifted sharply, and his jaw line hardened, his eyes glinting dangerously. With a surprising level of grace and tenderness, for the contrasting livid determination in his every feature, he lifted Tess up by the shoulders, and slid in behind her. Pulling her towards him, so that her back rest up against his chest, and she was rested against him. 

To Tess or himself, he wasn’t sure, he droned, “You already hate me, so what do I have to lose”? He lifted his wrist to his teeth, piercing the skin with his extended fangs, and moved his other hand to jut Tessa’s jaw up, and part her rough, cracked lips. He watched as two bright ruby drops slowly welled from perfect skin. He brought his now bleeding arm up to cover Tess’s mouth, and waited until his blood pooled past her lips, before gently using his thumb against her neck to massage her throat. 

“Come on Tess.” He coaxed, hoping that her body would respond, and she’d have to swallow. He pulled Tess up closer against him and waited, smiling with satisfaction, as he felt her neck muscles move, and she inevitably swallowed down his despised blood. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. 

If he stopped feeding Tess now, she would still die, but that would mean that she’d wake up in the transition phase of being a vampire. For a moment he was tempted to stop, as he wondered, for the first time, would it would be like if Tess was an immortal Vampire. Or he could continue feeding Tessa his blood, enough so that the rate of healing would surpass the severity of her otherwise deadly wounds. In the end it wasn’t really much of a decision; he might be a monster, but he wasn’t entirely heartless. 

He would not be responsible for turning Tess into the very thing she hated so much. Instead he pulled his arm back, and savagely bit down, so that blood readily poured out spilling down his forearm, and spattering both himself and Tessa. He pressed his wrist firmly up against her mouth now, still massaging her softly to drink. Blood dribbled down the side of her mouth and onto her neck, but she slowly began to respond by swallowing more often. 

He sighed heavily, this wasn’t half as enjoyable as the last time he’d given someone his blood; it probably had something to do with the fact that the recipient hadn’t been unconscious, or anywhere near as annoying when conscious. Tess surprised him then by letting out a low groan. It was a good sign that his blood was already healing her body. He listened carefully for a moment, noting that already her heart rate had picked up, and become more regular, and she breathed without hitching. 

In her semi-conscious state, Tess’s lips moved clumsily to better suck on Damon’s wrist, and Damon’s muscles instantly tensed. Her reaction, although not unusual, had caught him by surprise. Vampire blood was addictive, not sweet, but strangely tempting. Unaware of what she was doing, Tessa lent into him, her body naturally reaching out for more, and yet Damon still couldn’t bring himself to relax. It occurred to him that Tess had never voluntarily touched him, not that she was exactly doing that now either. 

Damon moved his hand away from her throat, and rested it upon her crossed arms, aware that she was waking up. A smile began to tug at the corners of his lips, she’d shoved him off the moment she understood what was happening, but Damon wasn’t finished yet. Technically there was enough blood in her system now that it would continue healing her, but Damon felt no shame to realise that he would enjoy Tess’s struggles to stop him, just as he always did. He might not be heartless, but he was a class ‘A’ grade jerk. 

When Tess reached full consciousness she became aware of a rich, warm substance filling her mouth, and swallowed to clear her throat. It was as if her senses were being overwhelmed with desire, a need for more. An almost electric current shivered through her, as if every nerve in her body had suddenly sparked with energy, and she desperately wanted more. Enough would never be enough, and all she knew was that it somehow started with this potent liquid that gushed freely into her mouth. Without realizing it, her hands had come up to grip the object responsible for this feeling, and for a moment, Tessa was lost, completely unaware of her surroundings, or who she was. What little strength she had was being used to cling to the very thing that seemed to replenish her. 

Damon let out an almost breathy groan, his lips brushing the side of Tess’s ears, “Easy now Tess, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you enjoyed drinking my blood.” 

Tess froze, shock rolling off her in waves, suddenly snapped back into the reality of the situation. For the first time fully comprehending what she was doing, and where she was. The blood turned into the most vile thing she’d ever tasted within an instant, not because it changed, but because she was terrified, disgusted by the force of her own cravings, and what it meant. 

Tessa’s grip on Damon’s arm switched, as she gave an outraged muffled scream, and attempted to yank his wrist away. But Damon had been expecting that, and her force barely budged the position of his arm. She screamed again, and used her back to slam her body weight against his chest, her fingers tugging, scrambling and pulling at his hand in an effort to free herself. 

Damon smiled smugly, enjoying seeing her squirm, amused that he didn’t even need to try to stop her efforts. He leant in again, and patronisingly whispered “Shh, Shh, don’t be like that, you liked it a moment ago.” 

Her right elbow came down painfully into the space between his ribs before he’d even finished his sentence, so that the last word came out huffed as two syllables. Her screaming of outrage had turned from surprised anger, to hopeless rage, and he felt, with bewilderment, tears trickle down her cheeks and roll onto his forearm. 

Hearing Stefan’s car pull up in the driveway, he shushed Tessa’s screams again, and with his free hand smoothing her tangled hair off her face, dispassionately said, “One of these days you might actually thank me for saving your life.”

There was a sharp knock at the door then, and abruptly, Stefan and Elena burst into the room, Elena’s eyes widening as she took in the scene. Tess on the couch, knees bent up against her chest, blood covering her upper body and mouth, tears streaming down her face, eyes heatedly glaring with loathing at Damon. While Damon nonchalantly poured himself a fresh glass of bourbon, leaning casually against the fireplace, the ragged edges of his wounded arm already healing, and his white T-shirt mottled with crimson stains. 

Damon calmly took a sip of his drink, averting his eyes, not because he couldn’t bear to meet Tess’s gaze, he told himself, but because of the look Elena was giving him. A sarcastic grin plastered his face, and speaking loud enough that everyone in the room could hear, said, “What an excellent idea Stefan, I never would have thought of feeding Tess my blood without you.” 

Elena gasped, completely misunderstanding his words and immediately siding with Stefan. But Damon knew that Stefan had understood them, and if Tessa was smart, she might eventually figure them out too. He was letting Stefan know that he’d take the blame for this, because everyone here believed him a heartless monster. 

Except that now both he and Stefan knew otherwise. He wasn’t heartless. He’d done for Tess what Stefan didn’t have the heart to, knowing that she’d hate him even more, whereas Stefan could never bear to live with that guilt. Damon and Stefan’s eyes met across the room, and a look of understanding passed between them. 

Elena rushed over to Tess’s side, pulling her into a comforting embrace, and Damon rolled his eyes. Mumbling to no one in particular, “Later”, as he gave a mock salute, and glass in hand, swaggered out of the room. Leaving as the scapegoat, all the while trying to ignore the anguished sobbs from Tess.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? :) This was uncomfortable to write in places, because there was an awful lot of emotional pain, frustration, misunderstanding and revaluations going on. But no, really, I'd appreciate you're feedback. :) All thoughts welcome!


End file.
